


Aftermath: Altissia I

by SunshineAndSnark (GoodApollo27)



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Altissia wrecked me, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Chapter 9 Spoilers, Disregards Episode Ignis, Gen, Ignis also needs a hug, Introspection, Prompto needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-29 02:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12072453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodApollo27/pseuds/SunshineAndSnark
Summary: After the city has been evacuated, after a god is defeated and a blessing obtained, things should be going well, right? Not for Ignis, wounded and unconscious in a hospital bed. Luckily for him, he has a dedicated friend by his side.





	Aftermath: Altissia I

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is my first fanfic. Yippee! In other words, I'm a little nervous...Please let me know if you like this; it would make my day. Several of my days, in fact. Basically, it's just a drabble that I wrote as catharsis for the emotional crap fest that was Altissia.  
> Inspired by the song, "Medicine" by Daughter.

## Chapter 1

     The white hallway stretched out in front of him, cold and sterile. Doors lined the sides at regular intervals, the soft beeps of machines counting out all of the fragile heartbeats. His own heart bounced uncomfortably against his ribcage as he read the numbers on the doors.

Behind each one: a life. A bundle of stories and memories nestled within painfully mortal, painfully delicate bodies.

He wanted to reach out to all of them. Dissolve the loneliness and isolation; whether his own or someone else’s, it still hurt. But visiting time was limited, and dividing that precious time between his two friends already proved difficult enough. He’d already faced scolding for neglecting his own health as he skipped out on meals and skimped on sleep over the past few days. Not like he could help it, anyway… Kind of hard to be hungry when your stomach’s doing flips. Kind of hard to sleep when your mind’s doing the same.

Prompto stopped in front of one of the doors, hesitating. It looked like all of the others, but this door was important. It was special. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to pull together a smile, just in case the patient was awake. It was difficult...with all that had happened. Not that it would even matter if he smiled or not…

He rested his hand on the cool metal of the doorknob and shivered. Everything here was so cold. His friend didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong in this chilled, detached place. Not someone so full of spirit and devotion.

Prompto pressed down, gathering up his courage. This was...his third time doing this? And it _still_ made him nervous… Gods, he was a wimp… Fingers tightened their grip. _Stop it_. Enough hesitation. Every second spent standing around in the hall was a second lost from visiting hours.

The door opened with a mournful creak, almost drowned among the robotic chimes of various monitors and machines. Heartbeat. Oxygen. IVs. Tangles of wires and tubes weaving over and under thick white bandages.

Amid the mess rested Ignis.

It felt wrong. Seeing him there. The man who was always so put together, confident and unstoppable: broken. Trapped on that hospital bed with the heart monitor chiming out his life. Prompto bit his lip and clung to the sound for a moment, willing his own heart to follow the slow, blessedly steady rhythm. Each beat assured him: _he’s alive...he’s alive...he’s alive…_

“Hey, Iggy,” the gunner greeted, trying his best to sound cheerful. The forced tone made him want to cringe. It was easy to fake smiles, but words… “It’s Prompto,” he finished lamely, not knowing what else to say.

He’d been trying to talk to Ignis during his last few visits. Just in case his friend could somehow hear him. In case Prompto could somehow pull Ignis from the fog of pain and drugs and helplessness into something familiar and comforting. Over the past few days, Prompto grew better at talking to the unresponsive man, but it still felt awkward when he struggled to find the right words, leaving gaps of stretching silence. Usually Ignis helped him find the right word when Prompto couldn’t think of it. Like a walking dictionary. Ignis always knew how to help...

Still, anything was better than the first visit. Shortly after he walked into the room and saw Ignis,Prompto had collapsed into broken sobbing, face pressed into the side of the bed as he mourned his friend’s injuries. As the severity of it all finally sunk in. The tears and hiccuping sobs went on until a nurse entered the room, gently resting a hand on his trembling shoulder to tell him that visiting hours were up.

He wouldn’t waste another visit like that, Prompto vowed after calming enough to think straight. He had to be strong for Ignis. The advisor could wake up at any moment, and the last thing he should be welcomed by was a pathetic sobbing mess. If anyone deserved to cry, it was Ignis.

He hovered in front of the Advisor’s bed, wringing his hands. The thin white sheets draped over the man’s chest rose and fell as he breathed.          

_He’s alive...he’s alive...he’s alive…_

Prompto broke his gaze away, staring at his scuffed boots, instead. Still muddy from the evacuation. He hadn’t even bothered to clean them, yet. _If Iggy were awake, I’d never get away with it..._

A weight seemed to settle on his shoulders as he leaned on one leg, trying not to fidget. With a heavy sigh, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his vest. Cold metal brushed against his fingers, and a genuine smile broke over his face.

“Oh, yeah. Brought you a little present!” Prompto chirped, retrieving a slim can of Ebony coffee from his pocket. He set the can down on a small table next to Ignis’ bed with a flourish. It looked oddly appropriate accompanying the bundle of flowers sent by Iris. Iggy loved that stuff. “You know, for when you wake up. It’ll probably be room temp by then, but...”

Now, standing closer to the top of the bed, light blue eyes drifted over Ignis’ wreck of a body. Their gaze caught on the ragged burns seared across Ignis’ left shoulder and chest. Angry inflammation peeked out from the edges of the bandages wrapped around the Advisor’s torso. A spattering of bruises and cuts as well. More bandages wrapped around both arms. More bruises. More cuts.

Prompto’s eyes wandered upwards, even as his mind yelled against the action. What he saw hadn’t changed since the last visit. Hadn’t magically healed or dissolved away like another nightmare. It was reality, and knowing that still made his chest tighten, choking off his breath.

Cuts on his cheekbones, across his brow, his nose, his lips. Marring the face that laughed and smiled beautifully in photos, that told bad puns and scolded Noctis and barked out orders in battle. Prompto’s hands began to shake as his eyes met the closed ones of Ignis, fists clenching hard with rage. With sorrow. With uselessness. He’d looked at Ignis’ face with every visit, but it never got any easier to bear. No matter how hard he tried. Prompto wanted to scream.

The flesh across the left side of Ignis’ face flared stark red against his pallid skin. It stretched savage across the fused lids of his ruined left eye, reaching for the bridge of his nose. Dizziness brought Prompto stumbling to his knees as the memories sprung unwelcome to the front of his mind.

                                                                                                                             -

Rain flooded down from the heavens. As if that cursed day weren’t wet enough already. Prompto slipped and scrambled over the soaked ruins of the once gorgeous Altissia. Now, all of his lovingly captured photos of the city would only be grim reminders of how easily...how quickly things could change.

His throat felt raw from screaming. _Where was he!? Where was Ignis!?_ He tripped over a chunk of dirty concrete, skidding to his knees into a puddle. The sting of scraped skin and the weight of his soggy clothes barely registered. He had to find Iggy! How long had it been since they’d lost contact? One hour? Two hours?

Prompto reached for his phone to check in with Gladio. The Shield had managed to grab Noctis once the chaos died down, taking the unconscious prince to a hospital on one of the less devastated edges of the city. He hoped Noctis was okay. Astrals, _please_...don’t take both of his friends.

Lost in his fluttering thoughts, he almost walked past it. Wouldn’t have even noticed, had his eyes not been cast downward as he tended to his phone. One of Ignis’ beloved leather gloves. Soaked through and crumpled on the dirty ground like a piece of common trash. A splash of blood streaked the back. The phone fell, screen cracking as it hit the ground.

Prompto knelt to pick up the glove, his hands shaking as he willed his fingers to cooperate. His knees threatened to give out as he crushed the soiled glove in his hand.

“Shit…” he hissed, whipping his head left and right, scanning the area. Panic surged, accompanied by waves of acid that welled up in his stomach like the swollen waves lapping at the city’s sidewalks. His imagination ran wild with images of a dead Advisor. He let his head drop to his knees for a moment as he sucked in deep, even breaths. “Can’t lose it, now. Gotta keep it together. Keep it together for Iggy.”

Once his ears stopped ringing, he pushed himself back to his feet and continued to shout for Ignis. Pain scratched at his overused throat, but he ignored it. He could start coughing blood for all he cared. Prompto shoved aside piles of debris and rubble from wrecked buildings and sidewalks, his search growing more and more fervent. Water and dirt and dust. It covered his hands, gritty between his fingers. Water. Dirt. Dust. Blood. Fabric.

 _Purple_.

Leopard print.

 _Fabric_ …

“Ignis!” Prompto cried, scrambling toward where Ignis lay sprawled on his back behind a pile of wreckage. His arms hung limp at his sides, bent in haphazard positions as if he’d been flung there.

Boots slipped over wet stone as Prompto skidded to a halt. Closer now, he could see every bit of damage suffered. Wet, labored breaths, too shallow for Prompto’s liking, rattled in Ignis’ chest. _H-how had this happened?_

“Shit!” he whimpered. “Iggy...what the-” his voice choked as breathing became difficult.

Ignis was a wreck. Prompto could barely see past the blood flowing over the sharp angles and planes of the advisor’s face, dripping steadily from his jaw. His glasses rested on his chest, the frames twisted and shattered beyond repair.

That...that looked purposeful. Had someone...had someone _done_ _this_ to Ignis?

Cold rage flooded through Prompto. Air whistled through his bared teeth as he drew in a deep breath. He didn’t want to think about it. That could come later. Now, Iggy needed help. Gods, did he need help.

He dropped to his knees next to the Advisor, yanking the bandana from his arm to mop some of the blood from Ignis’ face. _So much...so much blood_ … It continued to well up even as Prompto feverishly wiped, his fingers trembling as Ignis’ precious blood stained them.

The gunner sniffled, his stomach roiling as the smell of burned flesh filled his nose. Prompto looked closer at Ignis’ bloody face, gagging as horror pressed the air from his lungs in a reedy whine. It looked like someone had smashed a low-potency fire flask directly against Ignis’ left eye. Prompto fell backwards, nails digging into the concrete to hold himself up. _Who the hell did this?_

Panic seized his senses for a moment, freezing his limbs and locking his mind with white noise. Several nails cracked, still digging into the ground. The resulting sting brought him back. But he’d wasted time. Vital time. He shook his head, wet bangs slapping at his face. He could freak out later. Right now, Ignis was hurt. Ignis was...he could be _dying_.

“You’re usually the one who takes care of this stuff,” Prompto whimpered, reaching for the curative satchel strapped to Ignis’ hip. Prompto only had a potion or two on himself after the events of the day, and those puny bottles weren’t going to cut it. He needed something more powerful. Maybe even a Phoenix Down… He hoped not.

Prompto worked a bloody thumb under the closure of the satchel and flipped it open with a tiny click, plunging his fingers inside. Empty. His heart dropped, panic surging back. He whipped his head around, scanning the area. How could Ignis have used them all? Did they fall out?

The setting sun glimmered off of something a few feet away, catching Prompto’s eye. On hands and knees, he scrambled over, eyes focusing on a small pile of shattered glass. Sticky blue and green liquid dripped from the edges and points of the shards, the sun reflecting orange off of the glassy surfaces. Under other circumstances, it would have made for an oddly beautiful photo. Prompto could only feel bitter. Sticky liquid ran sluggishly to the ground in a soiled puddle. Useless. Wasted and _useless_. A snarl rumbled from Prompto’s throat as he kicked the glass, spraying the shards across the sidewalk.

He turned back to Ignis. Back to the blood and the bruises and the burnt flesh. He only had potions. Just two measly potions. Enough for a superficial cut, perhaps, but not this… Would it be worth it to even try?

“It’s all I have, Iggy,” Prompto sighed, fishing the bottles from his vest pocket as he knelt by Ignis once more. Carefully, he lifted Ignis’ limp hand and wrapped the man’s bloody fingers around the narrow bottle, squeezing to help break the thin glass. Light green sparks flared against pallid skin. A second bottle followed. Prompto watched for any improvement, not really expecting much, although it did seem as if the bleeding slowed.

With Ignis as stabilized as Prompto could manage, he sent out a quick call to Gladio, straining and failing miserably to keep his voice level as he relayed the situation to the Shield. After giving the best description of their location without actually knowing any of the street names or landmarks, Prompto slid his phone back into his pocket and returned to Ignis.

He _really_ didn’t want to move the Advisor; he knew that Ignis could have any number of injuries hidden beneath his bruised skin, and Prompto would never be able to live with himself if he caused any more damage to his comrade. Hell, he didn’t know if _lifting_ Ignis were even possible. The man was a good foot or so taller at _least_ , and though Ignis appeared sleek and lanky under his perfectly-tailored clothes, the guy had some serious muscles. But he had to try. Ignis needed a hospital, ASAP. That, and the area wasn’t exactly safe at the moment with the ocean waters rising to lap at the wrecked canals and debris-laden sidewalks. Evening crept ever closer as well, carrying the threat of daemons, and Gladio could only run so fast.

“Alright, buddy,” Prompto said, maneuvering Ignis’ dead weight onto his shoulders in a poor resemblance of a piggy-back ride. Ignis’ long legs dragged behind, his boots bumping and scuffing over the uneven terrain. Slowly, Prompto forced himself forward as his tired joints protested every step, the setting sun blazing in a flare of red. The weight of his injured friend on his shoulders.

                                                                                                                        -

Prompto shook his head until his vision swam, breaking free of the memory. That was over. Ignis was here, now. Safe. Alive. Prompto stared at Ignis’ scarred eyes, the raw skin _just_ starting to heal. But at what cost? The wounds looked inflamed and painful. The doctors said that Ignis may never regain his vision in his ruined left eye. The right eye may heal if Ignis were _lucky_.

Prompto scoffed. Home was destroyed. His parents... Gladio’s parents, Ignis’ uncle, and Noctis’ father...all dead. Luna was dead. A chunk of Altissia destroyed under the Empire’s unrelenting fist. Their lives changed, their futures torn away from them. Since when did any of them ever have _any_ luck on this road trip gone to hell?

Dropping to a kneel, maybe collapsing, the gunner rested his elbows on the bed next to Ignis. He folded his arms and set his chin on them, gazing up at the Advisor’s unresponsive face with red-rimmed eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Ignis…” Prompto’s voice came out rough. “I-I wish it were me laying there… instead of you. Man, I’d do it in a snap.” Prompto shook his head, staring listlessly at his gloved hands. “You’re the _useful_ one. The one who everyone looks to for advice. For _guidance_. Iggy...we _need_ you. We rely on you for so much.” His voice broke, vision blurring over. He swiped at his eyes with the back of his arm.

“I miss you, Iggs… Noct is...He’s fine, but he hasn’t woken up yet. Leave it to Noct to nap at a time like this.” Prompto laughed, but it was wet and hollow. There was no one to laugh with him, no one to follow-up with a witty remark. So what was the damned point? Why was he even trying?

“A-and Gladio won’t talk. He’s so pissed. I think he blames himself, but I don’t know why...There’s nothing that he could do...I mean, he was all the way on the other side of the city. I _want_ to talk to him, but it's like he’s closed up. It’s like he doesn’t want anyone around him.” Prompto reached out, carefully scooping up one of Ignis’ limp hands. It felt cold as he cradled it between his own hands. He held on, as if he could drag Ignis from whatever dark corner of the universe the Advisor had fled to.

“Not gonna lie: You guys are the closest thing to a family that...that I’ve ever had. N-no one has ever taken care of me like you do, Iggy. But now? Now, I feel like we’re all gonna break, you know? And I-I can’t do anything to help. I’m trying to be strong… I’m trying so damn hard. But…”    

Prompto clung to Ignis’ hand like a lifeline, like it was the only thing keeping him from washing away in the tide that seemed to have swept all of his friends out of reach.

“I-I’m... alone… Heh, it’s been _so long_ since I felt that way. And I have you guys to thank for that. But now, I feel like things aren’t going to be the same, anymore. Like, fun’s all over, now. And when Noctis wakes up and finds out about Luna… And you...He’s…” Prompto trailed off, unable to imagine what emotional turmoil Noctis would have to stomach. Would Noctis shove him away, too? He hoped not. For both of their sakes.

“I’m scared, Ignis. I’m scared and I don’t know what to do. I don’t… I-I don’t want to be alone, right now! I need you to tell me what to do! How to help! Please Iggy... _please_ come back.” The heat in Prompto’s eyes increased until it spilled over his cheeks as he thought of how much Ignis would have to endure upon awakening. How much had the man endured before being rewarded with unconscious when he was first injured?

“There’s going to be a lot of pain when you wake up. You’ll probably be scared, too. It’ll be dark and you’ll think you’re alone. But you’re not gonna to be alone, Iggy. Dammit. I’ll _be there_ for you, whenever you need me. I’ll stand by your side...through all of it. We all will.” Out of breath from forcing out his words and forcing in his emotions, Prompto bowed his head, resting the back of Ignis’ still hand against his damp cheek. It felt so cold against his flushed face. He stayed like that for a while, just holding Ignis’ hand and breathing until his emotions settled a little.

Once his lungs were satisfied, he began to hum, only vaguely aware of the action until he heard himself. The quiet intonations dissolved the smothering silence of the room. Vibrations travelled from his cheekbones, bumping against Ignis’ hand. Prompto lifted his head, and the humming swelled into softly mumbled words as his insecurity fell away.

 _When the night has come,_  
_and the land is dark,_  
_and the moon,_  
_is the only,_  
_light we’ll see_  
_No I won’t,_  
_be afraid_  
_Oh, I won’t,_  
_be afraid_  
_Just as long,_  
_as you stand,_  
_stand by me._

More tears escaped down his face as he fumbled over singing the words in the correct key. He knew them by heart; he loved this song and played it on every long car ride, tirelessly urging the others to sing along with him. Sometimes they would. Back when things were simple and _fun_. The stray sniffle here and there interrupted his singing, but Prompto carried through, voice growing stronger even as his heart grew weaker under the weight of his tears.

Ignis would never again be able to see him, but with luck, Ignis would maybe hear him. Prompto would sing to him until the day he awoke, filling the room with warm sound so that Ignis wouldn’t have to face the darkness alone.

Tentative fingers reached out and brushed the limp, tangled bangs from Ignis’ face, pushing them aside. Ignis hated when his hair fell in his face. Even if the man couldn’t feel it right now, even if he didn’t have awareness of _anything_ , Prompto didn’t care. Right now, Ignis needed taken care of, for a change, and Prompto vowed to display the same keen attention to detail that Ignis possessed.

 _I’ll watch out for you._ The last few notes of the song faded in Prompto’s throat, leaving the two in silence, once more. _Like you always watched out for us._

 

**********************************************

 

Sometimes, a spark of awareness would appear. Ignis tried to grasp at it, but it eluded his fumbling fingers to flicker out after too short a moment, leaving him in the enveloping dark once again.

Time slipped by unmarked in his numbed mind. He remained trapped in that smothering non-existance, oblivion flooding all senses.

Until…

Awareness came to him again, soft and fragile. Ignis reached out and grasped it with his whole being, a mute shout tumbling from his lips. He couldn’t fall back under. He had things to do! He couldn’t remember what they were, but he knew that they needed doing.

Pressure bloomed in the space behind his eyes, a tightness weaving through his ribs like rope. Ignis instinctively shied away, but felt the darkness press sticky against his back. It pulled at his bones, promising to drag him back into its devouring embrace.

 _Not again, dammit!_ Ignis grit his teeth _. No, not again._ He had recipes to cook, clothes to sew and plans to make. He had friends to protect. A king who needed his support. A friend...a beloved _brother_ who needed his support.

As Ignis fought, the pressure grew, turning into a needle-like prickle. The darkness snagged, promising instant relief and sweet oblivion. Ignis cried out as he felt himself dragged backwards, but his voice made no sound. Ripped away and swallowed up as soon as it left him. _He didn’t want to go back… He didn’t want to go back! **He didn’t-**_

A sound drifted to him, strange and muffled, as if filtering through water. _Singing?_ Confused, Ignis reached out, felt the darkness drift further away. With a determined nod, Ignis snatched at the sound, fashioning it into a rope. Clenching his teeth against the discomfort burning behind his eyes, pressing against his lungs, he wrapped the rope around his hands and braced against it. Bit by bit, Ignis pulled himself forward, the sound drifting all around him in wavering echoes, now.

Pain seared at his nerves, but Ignis ignored it, focusing only on the song. _Concentrate on the sound...find the melody...try to discern the words_ … Anything to keep himself distracted and moving forward. It grew clearer and clearer until he finally could hear the words. He could make out the unique voice behind it. Soft and light and sad...Familiar.

 _Prompto_.

Ignis carried on with increased determination. More and more sensations assaulting him, not all of them welcome. The darkness beckoned him back, but it sounded so quiet, so far away compared to Prompto’s singing. Like shattering through the surface of a frozen lake, Ignis broke away completely. 

 

He tried to force open his eyes, but only felt the left move. His view did not change. Still darkness. Confusion struck him, but was swept away by the sound of singing, right next to his head. The words slipped out between shaky, hitched breaths. Prompto. So it wasn’t just some odd dream. He was actually singing… He was... crying…

Ignis tried to reach out, but his muscles wouldn’t obey. Why? Why couldn’t he get up? Why was Prompto crying? He couldn’t leave Prompto crying like this. He took in a breath, the air raking against his burning throat, and tried to call out, but his vocal chords failed him. The singing stopped, the song coming to an end, and something about that frightened Ignis. A thin, ragged whine slipped from his lips instead, dragging sharp edges against his throat.

A small gasp, and something warm wrapped around his hand with a gentle, hopeful squeeze.

“ _Iggy!?_ ”


End file.
